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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24444034">After The Heartbreak</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinjaSpaz/pseuds/NinjaSpaz'>NinjaSpaz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love Lost, Love Found [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, Heavy Angst, Hinata is a good friend, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Kenma is a good friend, Multi, Post-Break Up, Slow Burn, Tabloid Drama, Yachi is a good girl, bokuto has the biggest heart, but i promise i fix it, everyone gets a happy ending, i let kuroo out of jail for this, madoka is a good mom, seriously though the beginning is all angst, they just do things all backwards, they're all idiots in love tbh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:42:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,838</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24444034</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinjaSpaz/pseuds/NinjaSpaz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“This is bad,” Kenma snarls.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>  <em>“Huh?”</em></p><p> </p><p>  <em>“You’re trending,” he adds, turning his phone to show Kuroo the top trends in Japan for the last few hours. His name is there in big bold letters alongside Bokuto’s. He grabs Kenma’s phone and scrolls through the tag to see what the hell was going on. It only took a few seconds for him to find the gossip rag headline dragging him through the mud.</em></p><p> </p><p>In which Kuroo and Yachi face the consequences of their affair.</p><p>Sequel to Be Alright (Part 1 of Love Lost, Love Found)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Bokuto Koutaro/Kuroo Testurou (past), Bokuto Koutaro/Yachi Hitoka (past), Kozume Kenma/Hinata Shouyou if you squint, Kuroo Tetsurou/Yachi Hitoka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love Lost, Love Found [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1765552</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>After The Heartbreak</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hundredtimes/gifts">Hundredtimes</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>After I finished Be Alright, I knew I wanted to write Kuroo and Yachi's side of the story, too. My dear friend <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/brucethegirl">Megan</a> is the Queen of KuroYachi and so I promised her I would write this in time for her birthday. Well friends, that day is today, and the fic is here, in all its angsty, fluffy glory!</p><p>The story picks up from Yachi's POV the morning after her break-up with Bokuto, and alternates between her and Kuroo (just as BA alternated between Bo and Akaashi). I swear to you this has a happy ending but if the tags haven't warned you enough, let this serve as a final warning for the beginning of the story: ANGST FULL STEAM AHEAD.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yachi has never felt so small. She sits at her kitchen table with one hand gripping a mug of coffee that has long since gone cold. The other hand is buried in her hair, propping her upright as a handful of giants move through her apartment, collecting the scraps of a relationship she singlehandedly destroyed. She can’t even bring herself to cry as the two pro volleyball players throw her vicious, hateful looks. She isn’t even sure she has anything left in her to cry now, after spending the night in her empty bed soaking her pillows with all her guilt and shame, but she withers under their dark gazes all the same.</p><p>Thankfully, she doesn’t really have to talk to them. Akaashi knows where everything is, knows what belongs to Bokuto, what is shared and what is not. He takes charge of them, directing them and forming a wall between her and them, which she is grateful for. She doesn’t delude herself into thinking he would possibly be on her side, but she is comforted by his presence. It’s grounding and familiar when everything has been uprooted and dropped on its head. Entirely by her own hand, of course; she will never forget that.</p><p>She doesn’t allow herself to think about the night that led to this morning, about the hesitant kisses that opened the door to the devil’s court, about the crimson fabric tucked safely at the back of her dresser with the rest of her anxieties. She’ll face those later, after the snarling beasts pick the bones of her apartment clean and leave her with her shadows. When the quiet settles in again and there’s no one to hold her and tell her it will be alright, that her pounding heart and racing thoughts are just a by-product of working herself too hard and she’s safe and loved and not alone.</p><p>“Aw’right, that should be everything,” Miya-san mutters, slinging the grey and white duffle bag, that she’d bought Koutaro because it reminded her of his hair, over his shoulder. Yachi drops her hand from her head and joins it with its twin, tightening them around the cartoon graphic proclaiming “Owl Always Love You” on her mug, as she met his scowl. It was a testament to her exhaustion that she didn’t even flinch.</p><p>Sakusa-san doesn’t even look at her as he walks by with an open box, knick-knacks and souvenirs clinking as he shifts his grip on it, photo frames poking out the top. Those would be memories from before, none to do with her, the pieces of his past he had tried to tie to the little things of their present that had accumulated in their time together, attempting to weave a tapestry that would frame their future together. A future so swiftly unraveled by a careless word, a straying touch.</p><p>She bears the weight of their disdain, feels it pressing down on her with the rest of her own self-loathing. She expected the ire of his teammates, his friends, his ride-or-dies who will leap to defend his honor. It soothes her, in a way, knowing he has people to turn to, people who can love him without hurting him. </p><p>Like Akaashi.</p><p>He shifts, not quite moving between Yachi and Atsumu, not physically but with a look and a quiet word. Akaashi has always been good with quiet words. Yachi had relied on them on more than one occasion when hers couldn’t cut through the din of one of Koutaro’s lows. (A pang of guilt sweeps over her as she wonders how such a messy break-up will affect his moods, if it will send him spiraling where no one can reach him anymore, or worse, cost him his place on the team.) Akaashi clears his throat and her head snaps up. The athletes are already gone from her sight, out of her apartment, as her vision fills with dark curls and dark eyes that might be black or might be green; she’d never really figured that out and it’s not important anyway.</p><p>What is important, what her mind latches onto, is the absence in those eyes of the anger she rightfully deserves, the hatred and loathing that every book and TV show and movie has told her should be there when the best friend confronts the cheating ex. More than Atsumu, more than Sakusa, Akaashi should be murdering her with a look, burning her to a spot on the floor with a glance. There’s certainly nothing pleasant in the way his eyes narrow as he holds her gaze, but there’s no malice in it either. It’s pity, it’s regret, it’s…sheer disappointment.</p><p>Yachi swallows, throat thick and mouth dry. She wants to apologize again. To fill the space with words and explain the unnecessary. To plead him to…well, not forgive her, she doesn’t deserve that, but she wants him to make sure Bokuto will be alright, despite how heavy a burden that would be to place on him. But she says nothing. Her voice has been lost, perhaps tucked away in one of the half dozen boxes loaded in their rental car down below. She should probably take that back, at the very least. It’s not something he needs right now.</p><p>“I’m not going to let him talk to you for a while.” Akaashi’s voice startles her, echoing her thoughts back to her. “I’ve already blocked your number from his phone to remove the temptation.”</p><p>She blinks once. Twice. Then nods, pulling the mug of cold coffee closer. Her voice comes back, not packed away in a box after all. “That’s fair.” She almost wonders if she should do the same. Removing the temptation. An icy grip at the back of her mind reminds her that giving in to temptation is what got her to this abysmal morning in the first place.</p><p>Akaashi leans forward and presses a hand to the table, a hard <em> clunk </em> sounds from under it. When he pulls away, there’s something brassy and shiny lying behind. A key. The spare key she’d had made for Bokuto the day she asked him to move in with her. Her stomach clenches at the sight of it. Intuitively, she knew this was all real, that it was over. But seeing the key, cold and distant on the far side of the table where he should be sitting, eating his breakfast far too quickly and talking far too loudly, it’s final. </p><p>She doesn’t reach for it, doesn’t try to close the gap. She didn’t try last night; she’d had no right to, the fissure was far too great. She wonders if that fissure extends between her and Akaashi as well, between her and all their mutual friends. Loneliness slithers into the empty spaces she cannot see. </p><p>Instead, she raises her head, tucking the pale, yellow strands behind her ear so her face is clear when she meets his eyes. “Thank you,” she says, determinedly keeping the waver from her voice while trying to infuse the two simple words with all the meaning she can. Thank you for returning the key. Thank you for being here to keep the hounds from devouring me. Thank you for not saying anything about why you’re here. Thank you for always being there for Kou- for Bokuto-san. She didn’t have the right to use his given name anymore, not even in the quiet parts of her mind. Especially in the quiet parts of her mind.</p><p>Akaashi’s lips turn down, slightly. Not that he had been smiling, and not that he’s scowling now, but his neutral expression has turned solemn. And why shouldn’t it? She had hurt the one person they both loved most in the entire world. His eyes crinkle as he nods. His response confuses her. “You too,” he says. She doesn’t have the energy to keep her brows from colliding together in silent question. “For being honest with him as soon as he got back. For loving him enough not to drag it out and make it more painful later on.” Yachi is certain her jaw has disconnected from her skull and bounced under the table. Akaashi tugs one of his fingers without really realizing he’s doing it. “I’m not saying I forgive you,” he clarifies. Of course not. That would be ridiculous. She doesn’t deserve forgiveness. “And I’m not happy with you. Less so with Kuroo.” His eyes darken for the briefest of moments. He sighs as soon as it passes. “You don’t need me to say all this. I know you already know, but I needed to say it all the same. Really. Thank you.”</p><p>Yachi feels the tears hot and stinging behind her eyes as she tries to hold it together just a few moments longer. She won’t cry in front of him. She won’t let herself break again where anyone can see her, least of all her ex’s best friend.</p><p>Akaashi, blessed Akaashi, who knows how to navigate the rivers of emotions of the people closest to him, senses her desperation and her need to be alone. He gives a slight bow as he excuses himself from her home. As he turns, a thought flutters across his face and his eyes soften. He has one more thing to say to her before he walks out of her apartment. She is grateful he waits until he is almost to the threshold before saying it. “He doesn’t hate you, you know.”</p><p>The door closes behind him, to her apartment, to their past, to everything tangible and intangible in the ever-expanding space between them. <em> He doesn’t hate you. </em>The words echo in her ears, bounce around her skull a few times before they slide down her throat and into her chest, where they stick in the crevices of her broken heart.</p><p>And then the dam breaks.</p><p>There’s a sound that freezes a body instantly. It’s painful and keening and full of all the things people prefer never to think about. It conjures images of black veils and granite slabs, of empty eyes and hollow voices. It’s torn from the deepest, darkest pits of the soul and it seeps its way into the skin, the heart, the bones. The sound has a name and most people pray the day never comes that it escapes their own throat. Grief. Mourning. Lamenting the loss of something once deeply loved. It is the sound that rends itself from Yachi’s lungs and fills the empty apartment with sorrow.</p><p>She weeps because she believes Akaashi’s words. She knows Bokuto harbors no ill will, in spite of how she took his heart, his love, his trust, and shattered them to pieces. She weeps because she deserves his ire, his anger, his hate. If anyone has a right to hatred, it would be him. And it would be so much easier if he did, because she can bear that weight, had strengthened her resolve to bear it even before she’d resolved to confess to her sins. But she knows he doesn’t have it in him to hate anyone, least of all someone he loved, and that is not a kindness she thinks she can bear.</p><p>She doesn’t deserve him. She doesn’t deserve his kindness. She doesn’t deserve to exist in the same world as him. She doesn’t deserve anything but the ache in her chest and the roiling pit in her stomach. Because she is the <em> worst </em> and she still loves him but her heart yearns for another and he deserves so much better than her. They both do.</p><p>An hour later there’s a knock on her door, quiet, hesitant. She almost didn’t hear it, but the blinking notification light on her phone reminds her that the visitor is expected. She drags herself to the door and opens it without looking to see who it is. Kuroo stands in the doorway, shoulders slouched with the same fatigue she feels in her bones. He follows her back into the apartment, hovering in the vestibule, waiting for a sign that she really wants him there.</p><p>Yachi isn’t even sure that she does, all things considered, but they do need to talk, and she doesn’t want to discuss it on the phone. She gestures for him to take off his shoes as she moves deeper into the tiny space, putting more distance between them. She hears him follow her into the kitchen where she has a new cup of coffee waiting for her, fresh, hot, but not enough to warm her frozen soul. She doesn’t bother to pick it up.</p><p>Kuroo stands in the middle of the kitchen, hovering next to the table where they’ve shared so many meals together, always with a loud golden-eyed man laughing alongside them and sometimes the quiet former setter with the silver tongue. Game nights and movie nights and major sporting events and national holidays all spent together within these walls. Almost like a family. Yachi swallows thickly. Family doesn’t hurt each other like this.</p><p>“Are you okay?” His voice is low, soft, like he’s afraid to break the fragile silence in the space between them. Yachi picks at her nails, avoiding his eyes. She shakes her head. How could she possibly be okay? She hears him exhale and in the way he shifts she knows he’s rubbing the back of his neck. When had she come to recognize his mannerisms with a shift? “Well, we knew this would happen,” he sighs.</p><p>The twisting in her stomach tightens all of a sudden. They had talked about it. About how to handle it when all their friends disowned them for the sin they had committed. The sin <em> she </em> had committed, dragging him down to hell with her. Her eyes snap up to meet his. The dark untamable fringe at his brow covered one eye, but his gaze is unfocused, wavering. He’s in just as much pain as she is, maybe more. He lost his best friend. </p><p>And for what? A frivolous girl who couldn’t keep her hands to herself while her boyfriend was away? Who was to say she wouldn’t just do the same to him if they carried on like this? When did she become the type? </p><p>She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment her feelings changed. They had been gradual, a slow shift where she began to look forward to Bokuto being home because it meant Kuroo would visit, would be home, too. At times it had felt like he had moved in the same time Bokuto had. It had never been weird for him to swing by while Bokuto was out, either at practice or playing a match in a nearby city or just relaxing at home with his roommate, so why should it have mattered when he was gone for a month? If she hadn’t crossed over that night, if he hadn’t tasted exactly as she’d imagined, felt as perfect in her hands as she had dreamed, maybe they could have salvaged it. Maybe they wouldn’t have fallen into hell over and over in the following weeks. Chasing a rush no sweeter than poison, even to the final day.</p><p>Maybe that was why she hadn’t noticed the Devil’s jacket that afternoon. She had been so focused on making the rest of the apartment perfect, making it normal, she hadn’t even thought to give their bedroom a once over. Or maybe a part of her wanted to be caught, to be confronted, and her mind slipped over it hoping for the smoking gun to be discovered. How else could she have missed it?</p><p>The damning garment was now slung over the back of one of the dining chairs. She had retrieved it after the Jackals had left. After texting Kuroo that they were gone. After resolving to do one more thing that would seal her miserable future.</p><p>Kuroo followed her gaze to the jacket and flinched. “This is all my fault,” he said, reaching a hand towards the fabric cautiously, as though it were a snake that might bite him.</p><p>Yachi shakes her head, biting her lip to keep herself from crying. “You weren’t the one who initiated it,” she chokes. “I’m the only one to blame here.”</p><p>“We both made mistakes that night,” he answers quietly. “I didn’t stop you.”</p><p>She rolls her eyes. “You were drunk.”</p><p>“So were you. Doesn’t make what either of us did, right.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his dark, slim-fit jeans. “I let you do it again after. We were sober the second time.” His quirked eyebrow says <em> and the third and fourth times after that. </em></p><p>Yachi wraps her arms tight around her stomach. Why does he have to make this so difficult? “You never would have considered it if I hadn’t—“</p><p>“’Toka-chan, don’t.”</p><p>“Please don’t call me that right now.” She closes her eyes to fight back the tears that are forming.</p><p>His lips close to a thin line. When he speaks again, his voice is cold. “What do you want to do?”</p><p>“Not this,” she says, barely audible. “I can’t do this right now.”</p><p>“Do you want to talk later?”</p><p>She shakes her head. “I mean this.” She gestures vaguely between the two of them. “Us. Kuroo, I can’t— I don’t— there’s just no way this works out for us.”</p><p>His eyes darken as understanding settles in his clenched jaw. “Are you sure?” he asks, though she’s certain he knows the answer better than she does. She doesn’t want him to leave. She doesn’t want to push him away, too. She doesn’t want to love him as much as she does. She shouldn’t be allowed to love anyone ever again if all she does is make them cry. She forces herself to nod, wincing as his shoulders stiffen and his hands ball into fists in his pockets.</p><p>He takes his jacket off the back of the chair and turns to leave. He doesn’t reach for her like he might have once, not with his hands or his eyes or his voice. He only utters a single word before he walks out the door. The same door Bokuto ran through last night. The same door Akaashi and Atsumu and Sakusa took all his belongings through this morning. The same door that has closed on so many of her relationships in less than a day closes on one more. But before it does, there’s one last word between them. One shared feeling that neither of them can overcome. </p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p>Yachi curls into herself and finds she still has tears left to cry. </p><p>*~*</p><p>“You look like shit,” Kenma deadpans as he opens the door to Kuroo on his porch, no doubt looking every bit like the stray cat they had adopted as kids. The taller man isn’t in the mood to throw a witty retort. He just runs his hand through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his face as he gives Kenma the most pleading look he has. Kenma rolls his eyes and turns back inside, leaving the door open for Kuroo to follow.</p><p>It’s not unusual for him to spend days at a time at Kenma’s. The house was certainly big enough he could almost stay and never see Kenma at all. Sometimes he still struggled to wrap his head around his best friend’s success and wealth. His own contracts were nothing to sneeze at, but he could never afford a place like this on his salary. Not alone anyway. And he didn’t want to be alone, despite having pretty thoroughly pushed away everyone who cared about him. Almost everyone.</p><p>Kenma swung through the kitchen to grab a couple drinks, tossing one his way before moving to the living room and dropping himself unceremoniously on one of the dark leather couches. No matter how stupid Kuroo was, Kenma would always be there for him. He dropped his bag in front of the other couch and sat down just as gracefully, popping the tab on the can and finally getting a good look at what his host had offered. “Red Bull? Really?”</p><p>“Got a stream later. You want something else go and get it yourself.” Kenma’s challenging gaze held him to his spot.</p><p>“It’s fine,” Kuroo grumbles. “I’m not an ungrateful guest.”</p><p>Kenma huffs. “Just an idiot.”</p><p>“You’re not wrong.” He tips the can back and downs it in one go. He will get something else after though, to get rid of the taste in his mouth. Of the energy drink, of his shame, of his bitter regret. There is so much bitterness on his tongue he wonders if anything will ever taste sweet again.</p><p>“I heard from Shoyou,” Kenma explains. “Tell me you weren’t foolish enough to go over there while they were getting Bokuto’s things.”</p><p>Kuroo scowls at him. “I’m an idiot, not a suicidal maniac.” Shaking his head, he adds, “I was worried though. She shouldn’t have had to face them all alone. Not when I was just as much at fault.”</p><p>“Miya is a grade A asshole, and he would probably deck you on sight, but he wouldn’t touch her.” Kenma takes a few swigs of his drink. “Plus, Akaashi was there. If anyone can wrangle overly emotional assholes, it’s him.”</p><p>Kuroo sighs. “Yeah but he’s pretty pissed at us, too.”</p><p>“Are you surprised?”</p><p>Kuroo flinches at the incredulity in his voice. “Of course not,” he snaps. He knew everyone would be pissed at them. He figured they’d scream and shout and cut them out, but he had been surprised by Yachi’s response. If anyone could understand what she was going through, could be there for her in the aftermath, it was him. “She dumped me, too,” he says quietly.</p><p>Kenma snorts as he takes another sip of his sugary beverage. “Of course she did.” He shrugs when Kuroo’s head snaps up to gawk at him. “Did you think you’d just live happily ever after? Life isn’t like that, Kuro. Grow up.”</p><p>“Ouch. Way to kick a guy while he’s down,” Kuroo groans, clutching his shirt above his heart and not completely faking the pain in his chest. </p><p>“I always told you that your excessive flirting would be your downfall one day.”</p><p>He sighs. “I knew I was a homewrecker. Just never thought it’d be my best friend’s house.”</p><p>Kenma makes an offended noise. “I’m right here.”</p><p>Kuroo throws him a withering look. “You know what I mean.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Kenma chuckles. “Try and wreck my house, though, I’ll disown you so fast.” </p><p>Kuroo is pretty sure Kenma is being literal, because he’s never known the other man to get involved with other people to such an extent. Aside from himself, the only other person Kenma has ever shown any interest in is Shoyou, and Kuroo has never been totally clear on just how deep Kenma’s interest in the rising star actually runs.</p><p>Shouyou and Yachi had been close once. He hopes their affair didn’t ruin that relationship too. How many bonds had been broken that night? In the immediate aftermath, they’d been so worried about betraying Bokuto that they hadn’t even considered what it would mean for their circle of mutual friends. </p><p>He really had fucked everything up when he let her kiss him. When he had wrapped his arms around her instead of pushing her away. When he tangled his fingers in her hair and fell deeper into the press of her lips on his, her body on his, her gentle hands clinging to his shirt as if she were drowning and he was the only thing keeping her afloat. He thought it would be alright, if she needed to pretend he was Bokuto for just one night, and he could pretend he didn’t want her just as desperately. </p><p>He didn’t know when that had happened. When he stopped seeing her as a satellite to Bo and as something just as vibrant, a small star in a sea of constellations. Was it in the lingering glances over dinner with him and Bokuto and Akaashi? Was it in the small, unnecessary touches during movie nights when they all crammed onto the couch together and she seemed somehow just as snug against him as to Bo? Was it the innocent text messages asking how his day was or checking to make sure he’d eaten? Maybe it was none of those things or maybe it was all of them but after that night there was no way he could keep pretending. After he’d tasted ambrosia nothing could ever taste as sweet.</p><p>He grimaces at the remains of the Red Bull and gets up to pilfer something less sugary. Kenma had a sweet tooth, and Kuroo wasn’t opposed to sweet things, but sometimes it was too much. He wants something stronger anyway and, because Kenma loves him, there are always a handful of his favorite IPAs in the fridge. He hopes the bitter hops will be enough to mask the other bitterness on his tongue.</p><p>He settles in for the afternoon, following Kenma to the gaming room and watching his stream from a super comfy beanbag chair out of the way of the screen. It isn’t unnatural for Kuroo to appear in Kenma’s streams even now—they have been best friends since middle school and he used to feature in early streams and he still does sometimes, despite being too busy with work to appear more than once in a blue moon—but he wants to keep a low profile for the time being. He drinks and he livens up the chat and does his best to get reactions from Kenma and his subscribers, feeling more at ease and less heartbroken as the day turns into night.</p><p>They order sushi for dinner and play Smash Bros for old times’ sake. It’s the only game Kuroo stands a chance against the pro gamer in because they’ve played each other so often through the years. Kenma doesn’t bring up the affair or the people Kuroo has hurt and he’s grateful to his oldest friend for that small kindness. Kuroo knows he’s an idiot, and Kenma knows he knows, so there’s no point in saying anything, but it’s still nice to have that silent support at his side no matter what. They play until Kuroo’s eyes are strained and tired and he feels the cumulative exhaustion wash over him. He leans against Kenma, chuckling at how he can still get the other man to carry him to bed after a night of debauchery. Kenma threatens to just leave him in the middle of the hallway floor. He spends the night on a spare futon in Kenma’s room and aside from the knot in his stomach and the ache in his chest, it’s almost normal.</p><p>The next morning he makes breakfast while Kenma sits at the kitchen island nursing another energy drink—he’d never taken to coffee—and browsing Twitter on his phone. The blond’s eyes barely focus as he scrolls through endless updates, catching up on the latest gaming news and checking his investments. He’s never been an early riser, even though he’d pulled plenty of all-nighters, and so this part of his morning routine runs basically on auto pilot. </p><p>Kuroo notices a slight twitch in Kenma’s eye as he slides over a steaming bowl of rice and a plate of salted mackerel. Those cat-like eyes narrow as he taps his screen and flips through apps. Kuroo hears his phone go off in the other room. And then again. And again. Over and over. “What the…?”</p><p>“This is bad,” Kenma snarls.</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“You’re trending,” he adds, turning his phone to show Kuroo the top trends in Japan for the last few hours. His name is there in big bold letters alongside Bokuto’s. He grabs Kenma’s phone and scrolls through the tag to see what the hell was going on. It only took a few seconds for him to find the gossip rag headline dragging him through the mud. </p><p>
  <b> <em>TROUBLE IN PARADISE. MSBY JACKALS ACE BOKUTO KOUTARO LEFT BROKEN BY SCANDALOUS AFFAIR.  DEVILS KUROO TETSURO STEALS HIS LUCKY LADY?</em> </b>
</p><p>Kuroo stares at the bold words on the screen and lets out a sharp breath. “Fuck.”</p><p>*~*</p><p>Their relationship hadn’t been the most public—they had done their best to remain as private as possible, so she didn’t think that many people knew her name—but in the days following the tabloid article, Yachi discovers just how surreal her life had become. She cannot leave her apartment without being hounded by angry fans and reporters. She isn’t even sure how they got her address but suddenly she has more mail than the postal service can deliver, and none of it is kind. There are very detailed letters about what she deserves and how she should be punished up to and including methods for taking her own life. Every word in every letter drips with poison and it seeps into her skin until she forgets how to breathe.</p><p>She knows she deserves this. That this is how it should be. She broke a fragile thing and now she is alone and there is nothing to keep the hounds from devouring her.</p><p>Except there are hounds that are still at her side. Despite the things she has done, the bonds she had severed, some were persistent. Hinata had jumped to her side with the MSBY PR team. He said Bokuto wanted to do it himself, but they didn’t want to make things harder on her by having him present in their discussions. The details of the end of their relationship were never something to be leaked and everyone wanted to work together to be sure the perpetrators were found. The Devils sent a representative as well, to help smooth things over for Kuroo’s sake. Plus, despite their personal estrangement, Yachi was generally well-liked by the team, players and officials all, so her safety was as important to them as everyone else’s, regardless of her current relationship status.</p><p>They make arrangements to get her back to Miyagi for a while. She is simultaneously grateful for the help and shocked at the offer. She doesn’t want to be more of a burden than she already has been. She knows she can’t live in her apartment anymore, but she can’t go out in public without someone harassing her for a comment or demeaning her for her actions either. In the days following the viral headline, she loses ten pounds and is unable to eat or sleep. It’s the least she deserves, she thinks, until Hinata stops by to check on her and he sees how dreadful she looks.</p><p>Which is how she ended up with a minor contingent of her own on the platform waiting for the train to take her home. She has her pale hair piled neatly on her head beneath a wide brimmed hat and large, tinted sunglasses, shades she would never have chosen for herself, obscuring half her face. She isn’t sure it’s sufficient for a disguise, but Kenma is dressed similarly and no one has noticed the famous Kodzuken standing on the train platform yet.</p><p>He had been a surprise. “Shouyo wanted to take you himself, but he doesn’t blend in very well when he’s not on a court,” he smirks. Kenma, on the other hand, was very good at hiding in plain sight, and he was a friend. Another person who hadn’t tossed her aside like trash where she belongs. “Plus, given the nature of your breakup, it’s probably best if you’re not spotted with any other professional volleyball players for a bit, yeah?” Yachi could feel her cheeks heating under his bemused grin. “I owe Kuro anyway.”</p><p>Yachi nods. This was all to keep up appearances for everyone involved. She didn’t need to think of useless things like if she really had any friends left after all. Her chest tightens as Kuroo’s name rings in her ears, though. “Is he—? How is—? Where—?” A hundred questions spill out of her mind and off her tongue at once, so fast she’s not sure a single one of them came out coherent.</p><p>“Kuroo will be fine,” he says, casually holding onto his hat as the train pulls into the station, sending a wild breeze through the bystanders. Yachi yelps and tugs her hat down lower over ears before it can be swept away. He wears a fond smile as he watches her wrangle her wardrobe and she feels her cheeks heating again. “He misses you, you know.” He gestures for her to board the train ahead of him, tossing a casual glance behind him to the hired men mingling among the crowd, keeping watch over them.</p><p>She sits in front of a window and lets out a sigh. Kenma remains standing next to the pole in front of her, his hands stuffed in the front pocket of his hoodie, fidgeting idly. He pays no mind as their bodyguards file into the car and take up posts at either end. As the train starts moving, Yachi realizes what’s so odd about Kenma’s appearance. He isn’t playing a game. She isn’t sure she’s ever seen him without a handheld device.</p><p>He sees her watching him, then pulls out his phone. A minute later, her phone buzzes.</p><p>
  <b>Kenma</b><br/>
<em> Don’t worry. Hiro and Yuuki are good at their jobs. No one will bother us while they’re here. [9:47] </em>
</p><p><b>Yachi</b> <b><br/>
</b> <em> [9:49] Oh! No I wasn’t worried about them. Though I am very grateful for their help, and yours! You didn’t have to do this for me. </em></p><p>
  <b>Kenma</b><br/>
<em> You’re a friend, Hitoka-chan. I’ll always look out for my friends. [9:50] </em>
</p><p>Yachi feels the familiar warmth pricking her eyes again. She chokes back a sob, masking it as a chuckle as if she perhaps just received a funny picture instead of a warm hand reaching through the dark.</p><p><b>Yachi</b> <b><br/>
</b> <em> [9:52] It’s nice to know I still have at least one friend after this whole mess. </em></p><p><b>Kenma</b> <b><br/>
</b> <em> You haven’t lost everyone. Shouyo has been really worried about you since the morning the story broke. And Kuroo has been doing everything he can to mitigate the damage on his end. We’ll make sure this all blows over, but in the meantime please take care of yourself so they don’t worry so much. [9:58] </em></p><p>Yachi blinks at that message. They were worried about her? After everything she’d done?</p><p><b>Yachi</b> <b><br/>
</b> <em> [10:01] I’m sorry. </em></p><p>She’s so sorry. Sorry for making people worry about her. Sorry for hurting so many people with her thoughtless actions. Sorry for pushing them away. She doesn’t know how she can ever repay them for staying by her side when all she wanted to do was run away.</p><p><b>Kenma</b><br/>
<em> You don’t need to apologize to me. Kuroo owes me, not you. </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> And if you’re really sorry, you’ll listen to me and take care of your health while you’re home. [10:02] </em></p><p>She allows a small smile to tug at her lips. Being lectured to take care of her health, by Kenma of all people, seems ridiculous. But he’s right, and she doesn’t like how her body feels wound so tight all the time. She thought she had been high strung in high school? What she wouldn’t give to go back to those halcyon days, where the most stressful thing on her plate was studying for entrance exams and training a replacement manager for the volleyball team.</p><p>Her phone goes off again while she’s reminiscing.</p><p>
  <b>Kenma</b><br/>
<em> I know it’s really not my place, but I think you should at least stay in touch with Kuroo. He is the only other person who knows exactly how you’re feeling right now. I’m not saying you guys should stay together or whatever, but I don’t think you should stop talking. [10:11] </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Yachi</b><br/>
<em> [10:13] I…will take that into consideration. </em>
</p><p>He’s right, of course. He usually is. He knows how to analyze people as well as a volleyball court or a video game course or a stock portfolio, and his conclusions are always frighteningly accurate. It’s what made him such a fierce opponent back in high school. His cheeks turn slightly pink as he catches her staring at him again and he turns away, ostensibly looking for Hiro or Yuuki. She’s glad she got to know this side of Kenma, too. Knowing he’s still in Kuroo’s court after all these years, having that calculating force on her side of the net, is refreshing and comforting. For the first time in five days, the knot in her stomach loosens ever so slightly, the icy grip on the back of her neck slackens just a little. The further the train takes her from Tokyo, the easier it is for her to breathe.</p><p>Her mom is waiting for her at the station, her face a mix of storm clouds and tender sunlight. Her presence is odd enough—she should still be at the office—but Yachi is relieved to see a familiar, loving face in the sea of potentially hostile strangers. Her heart stutters as her feet propel her across the platform. She’s no longer a young woman in her early twenties as she sprints toward the open arms of her mother. Madoka wraps her daughter up in her embrace and Yachi is four years old again, being comforted for a scraped knee and bruised cheek.</p><p>“I’ve got you, baby girl,” she says softly, hand firmly on the back of the sun hat as Yachi buries her face in the silky fabric of her mother’s work blouse. It smells clean, like the detergent she uses on her own clothes because that’s what her mother uses, but there are also traces of cooking oil from the take-out place on the corner, that heady scent that sticks no matter how briefly you spend inside, and beneath it all is the lingering scent of tobacco. She should scold her mother for resuming that bad habit, especially since she’d promised she’d quit, but she simply sighs because it smells like home.</p><p>Behind her, Kenma clears his throat. “Do you want an escort home?”</p><p>Her mother squeezes her tight for a moment before settling her hands on Yachi’s shoulders. “I think we’ll be ok from here. It’s not nearly as big news here as it is in the city.” Her smile is encouraging, but the storm clouds are back in her eyes. She inclines her head in an informal bow. She might have bowed deeper if not for the fact that they were trying not to draw attention to themselves. “Thank you for your assistance Kozume-san. I’ll be in touch.”</p><p>Kenma returns her bow, if a little more formally given her seniority. “Take care of Yacchan for us. I’ll see to the rest.” He nods to Hiro and Yuuki before the three of them leave the station heading the opposite direction.</p><p>The entire exchange goes over her head, and even if she had any spare room for thoughts, she is pretty sure she doesn’t want to know what sort of schemes her mother and the demon boss gamer have concocted. Her mother sets a quick pace back to their condo anyway. Yachi isn’t sure if it’s because she wants to avoid being stopped or if she’s just that hungry to start dinner, but either way Yachi doesn’t complain. She just steps quickly and quietly at her mother’s side until they’re safe on their doorstep ten minutes later.</p><p>Madoka doesn’t speak the entire walk home, and that doesn’t change once they’re in their condo. She just paces in the kitchen, flinging open cupboards and drawers, looking for ingredients and utensils to prepare a meal for her daughter who hasn’t been home to visit in months and whose current visit was heralded by unfortunate events. Yachi understands her frustrations. She imagines what it’d be like to have such a troublesome daughter like herself and shudders with the thought.</p><p>She notices how her mother’s eyes constantly flick to her purse, followed by a slight tensing in her jaw and a muttering of curses before turning her attention back to her dinner prep. Yachi opens the window in the living room and retrieves the cigarettes she knows are hidden in her mother’s purse and offers one to her. Madoka tries to protest, claims they aren’t hers and that she only keeps them on her for her forgetful coworkers, but at a tired eyebrow quirk from Yachi, she stops deflecting and accepts her guilty pleasure, moving to the open window to keep the worst of the smoke from setting off the alarms. Yachi takes over dinner prep, losing herself in the monotony of the motions, cutting and slicing vegetables, tossing and stirring them in the sauce in the wok. It’s the closest thing to normal she has felt since that night she made a similar dinner for Bokuto.</p><p>She almost drops the pan when that thought crosses her mind. It’s been almost a week since she cooked a homemade meal, and the last one she made had grown cold without being eaten. Her stomach churns with her regret and the days of no real nutrients. She’ll eat something fresh tonight, no matter what. She promised.</p><p>They still haven’t said anything by the time Yachi plates their meals and sets them at the island counter, her mother’s cigarette finally burned down and put out on the windowsill. They offer thanks for the meal, and slowly begin eating. Yachi can only stomach a few small bites at a time, but her mother gets progressively more aggressive with her mouthfuls. As if she’s devouring every rotten feeling flashing behind her eyes. Yachi swallows hard at the anger tugging at her mother’s lips. She wants to apologize, but what she says instead is, “mom, be careful or you’ll choke.”</p><p>Madoka freezes with a generous serving of rice halfway to her open mouth. Yachi does her best not to shrivel beneath that stern gaze. The chopsticks drop back to the bowl and her mother covers her mouth with her other hand. A chuckle escapes from behind her fingers despite her best efforts to suppress it. “What kind of mother am I?” she laughs. “My darling child comes home in the midst of a dreadful ordeal and I can’t even make her a proper dinner to cheer her up, and on top of that I’m just angry at the world instead of taking care of her.”</p><p>Yachi feels her ears turn red as she frantically waves her hands in front of her. “There’s no need for you to do anything like that! Really, mom, I’m the one at fault for everything.”</p><p>Madoka fixes her with a look that is a blend of pity and disappointment. It’s not entirely different from the look Akaashi gave her the morning after the breakup, though it does lean more towards pity than his did. “Hitoka-chan, you don’t have to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders. You’re only human. You’ve punished yourself enough, don’t you think?”</p><p>Yachi swallows. Her eyes feel hot again and she doesn’t trust her voice not to break when she speaks. “I hurt him, mom.” The tears spill over her cheeks and she doesn’t even try to stop them. “I hurt him, and then turned away the only person who could understand how I felt. I’m such a horrible person.”</p><p>Her mother is at her side in an instant, smoothing her hair and letting her soak her shirt with tears. “The fact that you are this remorseful proves you’re not a horrible person. A truly horrible person wouldn’t care enough to shed tears for someone they hurt.” She rocks Yachi gently against her chest. “I’m angry that your relationship with him is over. I really do like that boy. But he is not my child, you are. And I’m angry that you’ve had to suffer so much toxicity from the public over that ridiculous article. I’ve already made some calls; it’s going to go away. I’m angry that you didn’t call me when it happened, that I had to hear about it from a coworker who loves those gossip rags, but I’m not angry with <em> you </em>, ok?” She cups Yachi’s cheeks in her hands and brushes the tears aside with her thumbs. “You don’t have to suffer through this alone.”</p><p>Yachi spends the rest of the night alternately sobbing and pouring out all her anxieties about the whole affair. The only other time she had broken down like this was when she had to make a decision on which university to attend. There had been far less tears on that night, the decision wasn’t <em> that </em> world-altering, though the conclusion had brought her to Tokyo where she had reunited with her volleyball star friends. She lets out a mirthless laugh at that realization, to which her mother gives an off-handed reply about fate and how the paths one’s life takes can be strange.</p><p>By the end of the night, she is exhausted, but she feels marginally like herself again for the first time in almost a week. She really should have called her mother sooner. Maybe even when she first slept with Kuroo. She shakes that thought away, though. Her mother didn’t need to know every detail of her private life. Then again, it seemed like the rest of the world already did, so what was the point of hiding anything?</p><p>Hinata shows up on her doorstep the next morning. He’s glad to see she’s finally slept. “I can’t stay long,” he says. “I’m actually on my way to see my family. Natsu’s got a match this afternoon and I promised my mom I’d bring her, but I wanted to see you first. Here.” He hands over a tablet with an interview queued up ready to play. “This is gonna air later today, but I thought you’d like to see it ahead of time.”</p><p>The thumbnail shows a very serious Bokuto Koutaro talking to a reporter. Yachi isn’t sure she’s ever seen such an expression on his face before. Whatever he’s discussing, it seems important. She presses play.</p><p>
  <em> Look, I get it. This is your livelihood and you have to ask these questions, but I want to lay it out on the record. This is the last time I will speak of this. I will ask you one final time, to respect our privacy. What happened with my ex is between her and I. Yes, Kuroo too. I don’t need anyone coming to defend my honor or anything. What happens between consenting adults is their business and they don’t deserve your hate. We’re all human, after all. We make mistakes. We do things we regret. We hurt each other. But we also move on. And I am moving on from this. I love my career and my team and from now on, those are the only topics I will discuss. Really, I’m alright and I hope she is, too. </em>
</p><p>Yachi feels her lip quiver as she watches him wish her well in spite of everything. She wants to call him, to thank him and to apologize and to say all the things she has no right to say. She hands the tablet back to Hinata. “Tell him,” she stops because she isn’t sure what she wants Hinata to tell him.</p><p>His hand falls on her shoulder and he gives a gentle squeeze. He understands. “He knows,” he says. “But I’ll tell him anyway.” She hugs him. She is so lucky to still have such a strong ally on her side. Before he leaves, Hinata has one more piece of advice to pass along. She doesn’t know if it comes from Bokuto or Kenma, but she’s beginning to have déjà vu from hearing it. “You still have friends, Yacchan. Me, Kenma, Kuroo-san, we’re all in your court. And, for what it’s worth, I think you should still talk to him.”</p><p>She bids him goodbye, telling him to wish Natsu good luck in her stead and say hello to his mother for her. He promises he will and then tells her to come back to Tokyo soon. She does miss the city, but she is looking forward to some quiet time in the country now that she’s here. She plans to go back for her finals, but she decides it would be best for her to spend the summer in Miyagi. Her mother is ecstatic at the idea of having her help at the office and Yachi is glad for the familiarity of her old routine.</p><p>After her exams are over and she makes arrangements with her landlord for the months she’ll be out of town, she takes the train home for the second time in as many weeks. Her luggage is a little heavier, as her stay is going to be longer, but her heart is heavy too. The distance is supposed to be beneficial, to put actual space between her and the toxic environment lingering from the tabloid article. But it also means she won’t see Kuroo again for at least a few months, and this brings the ache in her chest back to the surface. She doesn’t feel right leaving without saying goodbye, without saying anything at all. As the train pulls away from the station, she digs her phone out of her purse.</p><p>
  <b>Yachi</b><br/>
<em> [13:27] I’m sorry I haven’t reached out before now, but I wanted to let you know I’m going home for the summer. I’ll be back in Tokyo for the fall semester. </em>
</p><p>She doesn’t really know what she expects. She still doesn’t believe she deserves any of his attention. If he never answers her, she would understand. So why does her heart hammer in her chest while she waits for a response she doesn’t really believe is coming? It thrums with the beat of the train rolling along the tracks and she loses herself in the scenery flying by as they head out of the city. She’s trying to determine how she would translate a particular milieu into a design project when her phone startles her out of her reverie with a soft buzz.</p><p><b>Kuroo</b><br/>
<em> So far away? Not running away from me, are you? (* </em> <em> ・ </em> <em> ∀ </em> <em> -) </em> <em> ☆ </em> <em> [14:03] </em></p><p>Yachi laughs in spite of herself.</p><p><b>Yachi</b><br/>
<em> Maybe a little. (/ω </em> <em> ＼ </em> <em> ) </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> [14:05] But mostly I just need some distance from the city. Nothing personal. </em></p><p>
  <b>Kuroo</b><br/>
<em> That’s understandable. I’d understand if it was personal, too. I’m sorry for putting you in that situation in the first place. [14:07] </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Yachi</b><br/>
<em> [14:08] I’m sorry, too. </em>
</p><p>She hesitates, wondering if she should elaborate on that, but Kuroo doesn’t give her the chance.</p><p><b>Kuroo</b> <b><br/>
</b> <em> I’d tell you not to be, but I know that’s useless with you. Just know that I’m here if you ever do decide you want to talk about it. [14:11] </em></p><p>She does know. And they should talk about it. They should have talked about it the morning MSBY came for Bokuto’s things. They should have talked about it any number of times before or since. But there’s nothing left to be done about the should haves, there’s only what they can do now, and it’s a very long train ride back to Miyagi.</p><p><b>Yachi</b><br/>
<em> [14:19] I do. </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> [14:20] Are you free right now? I could use the distraction on the journey home, but if you’re tied up we can talk later. </em></p><p><b>Kuroo</b> <b><br/>
</b> <em> I always have time for you. [14:20] </em></p><p>Yachi blushes. She probably shouldn’t, but, well, it’s involuntary. To anyone else, he might have been teasing, but she knows he’s being sincere and that makes her heart flutter in spite of herself.</p><p><b>Yachi</b> <b><br/>
</b> <em> Good to know. </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> [14:22] So how are you doing? </em></p><p><b>Kuroo</b> <b><br/>
</b> <em> Feel like shit tbh. Broke my best friend’s heart and made you feel like you had to bear this burden alone. But I’ve still got people supporting me. [14:25] </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> How about you? Are you doing ok? [14:26] </em></p><p><b>Yachi</b> <em><br/>
</em> <em> [14:28] I’m doing better knowing I’ll be away from it all for a while. Did you get all the hate mail too? </em></p><p><b>Kuroo</b> <b><br/>
</b> <em> God, yeah. But luckily I didn’t have to read much of it. Benefits of being a minor celebrity athlete, I guess. Someone else reads all my mail before I do, and if they deem it’s not worth my time, I never see it. [14:30] </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> I’m so sorry you didn’t have that buffer. [14:31] </em></p><p>She still couldn’t believe how much vitriol had been thrown her way. She didn’t know so much hate could be directed at one person, or that people could say such dreadful things to a complete stranger. Bokuto’s interview had helped to stem the tide. People seemed to listen to him, and as the topic fell off the trending lists, the waves of hate mail abruptly slowed to a trickle. She was no longer drowning in sludge. The tabloid that ran the story had also mysteriously gone dark after publishing an apology. She doesn’t know what to make of that, but she is mostly just glad for the room to breathe again.</p><p>Texting Kuroo is also a breath of fresh air. She didn’t realize quite how much she missed talking to him until she had tried to force him out of her life. Naturally the conversation shifts to their relationship and where it stands in the face of all the backlash. She admits she misses him, but she isn’t ready to pick up where they left off. She’s not even sure she can handle dating another high-profile volleyball player in the foreseeable future. She doesn’t want to lose him as a friend, though, and he says he can accept that.</p><p>Her train arrives in Miyagi and this time she walks home with her head held high, the future no longer so dark and crushing.</p><p>*~*</p><p>Kuroo manages to avoid the worst of the backlash thanks to his PR team’s hustle in finding the source of the leak, Bokuto’s interview asking the media to back off, and a mysterious benefactor buying the tabloid out from under the owner’s nose and making it disappear almost overnight. When he asks Kenma if he knows anything about it, his childhood friend rolls his eyes and tells him not to be an idiot. Which is code for “I do know but I’ll never tell you.” Kuroo barely conceals his shiver as he considers his friend’s brutality.</p><p>None of this keeps him from feeling like the absolute scum of the earth, though. In the immediate aftermath of the article, he only had Kenma and his team at his side. They were all pissed at him for being at the center of a scandal, but as they say, there’s no such thing as bad publicity. Interest in V2 volleyball spiked at the height of the affair. Not to say people weren’t interested before, but it was enough to send waves to new fans and therefore new money. He cringes a little at that thought. He hates to think of the failings of his personal life being fuel for the market, if for no other reason than the effect it would have on Yachi’s life.</p><p>She wasn’t accustomed to the spotlight, preferring to work behind the scenes and support those around her instead. He loved that about her. But it meant that when she was pulled into the limelight, she was unprepared. His heart broke as soon as she opened her door that morning. He could already see her mind working to distance herself from everything and still he’d tried to convince her to stay with him. He was really the worst kind of person. He deserved her pushing him away. He even came to terms with it in the days that followed, despite the trending news and incessant questions for comment. He had resigned himself to never hearing from her again.</p><p>Which is why he felt blindsided by her message two weeks later, asking him how he was doing and offering to finally talk about what had happened, what was to come. He was relieved, angry, grateful, frustrated, glad, and everything else in between. She was going home for a few months. She was going to take the time to find herself again. She would be back in the fall. She didn’t want him out of her life completely. Kuroo doesn’t delude himself that they’ll get their happy ending. Kenma’s voice in his head won’t let him entertain the thought. But he is grateful he gets to keep her in his life. He hopes to be there to see her future happiness as it comes.</p><p>The months pass by in a blur. He has practices and tournaments and pressers on top of online graduate classes to study for. He hangs out with Kenma and torments his viewers with his awful gameplay and worse commentary. Mostly he spends time at his apartment, watching tapes of his opponents’ games, of his team’s games, of training videos and pep talks and all manner of prime educational material. He texts Yachi. They share stories about their day, their jobs, their life. Neither of them is seeing anyone, so there’s no weird stress about talking like this. She’ll send him her latest projects to critique and he’ll send her cat videos and memes to break up the monotony of her day. She’ll vent when she’s stressed and he’ll tease her relentlessly for being so cute when she’s mad. Mostly they just talk about whatever comes to mind. It’s calming. It’s fresh. It’s old, but it’s not.</p><p>It’s a new sort of routine. Kuroo likes routines. Every day has more or less the same foundation. Wake up. Brush teeth. Shower. Grab protein shake for breakfast. Get ready for practice. Text Yachi. The rest of his day follows similarly, with some days spent at Kenma’s or his teammates’ instead. He has a routine for his commute. He has a routine for his warmups in practice. He has a routine for his meals. He has a routine for talking to Yachi. He has some routines that are specific to certain days of the week, like grocery shopping, or laundry, or his guilty pleasure coffee ritual.</p><p>It’s during one of these weekly coffee splurges that he runs into Akaashi. The familiar sight of messy, dark curls and a slightly too-large sweater brings about a sense of nostalgia. Yachi and Bokuto weren’t the only people he used to see almost every other day. He hadn’t been as close to the former setter as the others had been, but he had still been a part of their weird little family back when it was still whole. Kuroo feels emboldened by his current friendship with Yachi and figures he has nothing to lose by reaching out to the man five feet in front of him.</p><p>“Hey stranger.”</p><p>Akaashi turns around with a startled look. “Kuroo?” Kuroo shrugs, his typical lazy smirk quirking his lips, and he sees a grin pull at the other man’s lips, too. “Long time, no see,” he agrees, offering his hand.</p><p>Kuroo’s heart does flips at the gesture. Akaashi could easily brush him off, give him the cold shoulder, cuss him out, or any number of rotten things he probably deserves, but instead he extends an olive branch. Kuroo clasps it with more enthusiasm than is probably warranted, but he can’t contain his glee. He might be able to salvage another friendship after all.</p><p>They exchange the typical pleasantries, the “how are you’s” and the “I’m well thanks” that come with every meeting between two people who have not spoken in months. Kuroo presses on, discovering that Akaashi has time to sit and chat with his coffee and he accepts Kuroo’s invite to do so. He’s just as grateful for the chance to catch up as Kuroo is. They find an empty table near the back and fall into easy conversation as they sip their respective beverages.</p><p>Unsurprisingly, the conversation turns towards the sensitive subject at the heart of their recent estrangement. It’s an innocent enough question and Kuroo doesn’t fault Akaashi for his curiosity. “Is Yachi well?”</p><p>He picks at the cardboard sleeve around his cup, its purpose long since defeated now that what little remains of his latte is room temperature. “She seems to be doing much better,” he says. He leans his chin in his hand and stares out the window, out past the high rises of the city, out across the mountains and valleys towards a small town in the country where he imagines her packing up her designs and heading home from the office her mother runs. She’ll let her hair down once she gets home, and run her fingers through it to loosen the strands stubbornly clinging to the form they’d taken all day, restrained by an elastic in a ponytail or a bun. She’ll change out of her business attire and into something more comfortable as she sets about preparing dinner for herself and her mother. If he’s lucky, he’ll get a text with a picture of the meal she prepares. If he’s lucky, their conversation will carry on into the night. If he’s lucky, she’ll say goodnight before she falls asleep talking to him. He doesn’t mind it either way if it means he might be on her mind as she goes to sleep. She’s always the last thing on his mind when he falls asleep, after all.</p><p>Akaashi clears his throat, snapping him out of his reverie. “So are you two—?”</p><p>Kuroo cuts him off with a soft chuckle. “No, she dumped me the same morning you brought the team over to get Bo’s stuff.” Akaashi blinks back surprise at that. Kuroo isn’t sure what to make of the way his eyes crinkle as his lips pinch into a flat line. The expression lasts the barest of a second; Akaashi has always been thorough about schooling his emotions from his face. Kuroo shrugs it off. “I didn’t deserve either of them, to be honest. How is he, anyway? Has he found anyone new yet?”</p><p>Akaashi’s eyes fall to his hands. They grip the paper cup tightly. “He’s…keeping himself occupied. I don’t think he’s ready to jump into another relationship right now, and I think that’s very mature of him.”</p><p>“Uncharacteristically so,” Kuroo quirks an eyebrow.</p><p>Akaashi brings his cup to his lips, though it can’t hold much more coffee than Kuroo’s does. “And what would you know of his character, Kuroo-san?” Kuroo fixes him with a level look. Despite the rift between them, he has known Bokuto for almost ten years. He’d loved the man for more than half that time. Come to think of it, only Akaashi might have loved him longer, even if he tried to deny it. They both knew just what sort of romantic Bokuto was. Quick to love and deeply so. Akaashi shakes his head. “Ok, I agree, it’s a little odd, but would you have him throwing himself at the first girl to confess to him?”</p><p>“We both know it doesn’t have to be a girl.”</p><p>“Don’t be crass.”</p><p>“Just bein’ honest.” Kuroo swirls his cup in a futile attempt to mix the remaining syrup with the remaining liquid before downing it with a cringe. “But no, I would hope he’d take the time to focus on himself. Especially because he’s usually so…Bokuto.”</p><p>Akaashi chuckles, and finishes his own coffee. “Yes, we have been working on that.”</p><p>“We?” Kuroo can’t help but feel a flicker of hope that maybe the circumstances have brought the pair closer. They’ve always been such a good team.</p><p>Akaashi adjusts his glasses, an involuntary motion done more from nervous habit than necessity. “The team and I,” he clarifies. “We’ve been making sure he always has someone to keep him company, or at the very least to talk to. They also keep him busy with practices and charity events, no time for idle hands and that sort of thing.” Kuroo ignores the subtle jab from the old adage. Akaashi shrugs. “We do see more of each other now than we did before. We have dinner a few times a week when he’s in town.”</p><p>Kuroo can’t help the smirking grin that spreads across his face. “You mean you cook for him because he can’t cook for himself and if you don’t, he won’t eat properly.”</p><p>“He can cook,” Akaashi grumbles, pointedly looking away from Kuroo’s leer. He can’t hide the pink highlighting his cheekbones though. “It’s just nicer having someone to share a meal with than eating alone if you don’t have to.”</p><p>Kuroo can agree with that. The only person he’s eaten with outside of team outings in the last few months is Kenma, and those meals were few and far between because of their erratic schedules never quite lining up nicely. He wishes he had someone to cook for him, or someone he could cook for, on occasion. Yachi is making Korean meatballs tonight. He remembers her complaining about the market being out of the sauce she needed, but then being relieved to find some at the convenience store a block away from her house.</p><p>As if he can see Kuroo’s thoughts, Akaashi says, “So Yachi is back in Miyagi?”</p><p>“Just for the summer,” Kuroo says. “She’ll be back next week, actually, to start her final year of university.”</p><p>Akaashi nods as if this all makes perfect sense. “The public mob memory is pretty short-lived,” he says. “They’ve already moved on to the latest hot topic. Hardly anyone remembers the affair now, let alone her name. I’m glad she’ll be able to get back her life.”</p><p>Kuroo smiles sadly as they stand together and toss their empty cups in the trash. He wouldn’t get to feature in her life this time. “Yeah, me too.”</p><p>They stand outside the café for a moment, taking in the silence amidst the bustling city ahead and behind them. Their paths are different, they’re going their separate ways yet again. “We should do this again,” Akaashi says quietly. “It’s nice to talk with an old friend.”</p><p>Kuroo laughs. “We’re not 50, Akaashi.”</p><p>“No,” Akaashi smiles. “No, we’ve still got our whole lives ahead of us.” He offers his hand once again.</p><p>Kuroo takes it and gives it a firm shake. “I’m here this time every week. It’s my own private ritual, but I think I can sneak you in if you want to join me from time to time.”</p><p>Akaashi shakes his head with a put-upon long-suffering sigh. “Don’t make me regret talking to you.”</p><p>“No promises.”</p><p>The air between them is light, reminiscent of the buoyancy from the days before. When Bokuto and Yachi had them over for games or movies, or let them crash after a night out on the town. When they were all together instead of alone and apart. He missed that most of all.</p><p>“He’d be okay with it, you know.” Akaashi isn’t looking at him when he speaks, and Kuroo isn’t completely sure he heard him right.</p><p>“What are you—?”</p><p>Akaashi’s eyes slide towards him and he quirks an eyebrow. “He wants you two to be happy.” He waves as he departs, leaving Kuroo stunned speechless beneath the awning of the quiet café.</p><p>He lets Akaashi’s words tumble over in his head that night as he stares at the ceiling, the Mikasa ball he’d been tossing long since forgotten after it rolled under his desk. His phone lay silent next to him on his bed. Yachi was watching a movie with her mother and promised to text him after. Akaashi was a very earnest person, he wouldn’t say something he didn’t mean, but Kuroo couldn’t accept that Bokuto would actually be ok with them. He tried asking Kenma for advice, but all he got was sass. Which, really, it shouldn’t have surprised him.</p><p><b>Kenma:</b> <b><br/>
</b> <em> You’re a grown ass man, Kuro. You can make your own choices. Just make sure you don’t fuck it up this time. I don’t want to have to cover your ass again. [20:48] </em></p><p>Kuroo sighs. His phone buzzes.</p><p><b>Yacchan</b><br/>
<em>Sorry, movie took a bit longer than I expected. Mom kept getting distracted and we had to pause it a few times. </em> ˚ ‧ º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥ ⌓ ˂̣̣̥ ) ‧ º·˚ <em>[22:39] </em><br/>
<em>How was your night? [22:40] </em></p><p>Kuroo can’t help the warmth that spreads through his chest at her sweet message.</p><p><b>Kuroo</b> <b><br/>
</b> <em> [22:41] Quiet. Been thinking.</em></p><p><b>Yacchan</b> <b><br/>
</b><em>Uh oh. Nothing good ever comes of that. ( </em> <em> ◔◡◔ </em> <em> ✿ </em> <em> ) [22:42] </em></p><p><b>Kuroo</b> <b><br/>
</b> <em> [22:42] &gt;__&gt; excuse you</em></p><p><b>Yacchan</b> <b><br/>
</b> <em> o( </em> <em> ≧∇≦ </em> <em> o) </em> <em><br/>
</em><em>Ok ok what are you thinking about? [22:43] </em></p><p>
  <b>Kuroo</b><br/>
<em> [22:44] I saw Akaashi today</em>
</p><p><b>Yacchan</b> <em><br/>
</em><em>Oh [22:44] </em> <em><br/>
</em><em>How is he? [22:45] </em></p><p><b>Kuroo</b> <b><br/>
</b> <em> [22:47] He’s great. We had a really nice chat. We’re probably gonna get coffee again next week.</em></p><p><b>Yacchan</b> <em><br/>
</em><em>Well that’s good then [22:48] </em></p><p><b>Kuroo</b> <b><br/>
</b> <em> [22:50] It was nice to know he doesn’t hate us. Which is what I’ve been thinking about all night.</em></p><p>His heart is suddenly beating a steady percussive beat behind his ribcage. All these months of casual conversations, two people friendly with one another but still on opposite sides of a net, and now he was going to reach out across that divide.</p><p><b>Kuroo</b> <b><br/>
</b> <em> [22:52] You come back to Tokyo next week, right? Can I meet you at the station when you get here?</em></p><p>The wait for a response is agonizing. Maybe he’d pushed too far. He should have known better. Everything was going so well, perfect, even, and he just had to get greedy. He should probably apologize, say he was just kidding, something. He brings his phone up to text her again and he sees the three dots pop up. They’re immediately replaced by a message. Three simple words that jumpstart his heart (when had it stopped beating?).</p><p><b>Yacchan</b> <em><br/>
</em><em>I’d like that. [22:57] </em></p><p>There’s still a whole week before she’ll be back in town, sharing the same crowded spaces and breathing the same stale air, but the time flies by. They still text during the days, though somewhat less frequently as she busies herself with her preparations to return. She has tasks to tie up at work and packing to do and her mother is fretting about her leaving again. He has a couple matches at the end of the week that take up a lot of his focus, but once they’re over, Sunday is right there behind them.</p><p>To be honest, Kuroo isn’t sure what to expect when he sees her again. All the emotions he’s been through since that night back in April course through him as he stands on the platform, waiting for her train to arrive. The regret of the taboo, the fear of discovery, the desire for more, the thrill of the secret, the pain of it being thrown wide open, the guilt and the grief of losing so many people dear to him, the numbness as he accepted he would be left behind by the woman he had no right to love, the relief as those people slowly started to welcome him back. And now the anticipation of seeing her again. It’s almost too much.</p><p>The train pulls into the station and he forgets how to breathe. The doors open to let the passengers disembark and his eyes scan the crowd for the familiar tiny crow. A flicker of golden yellow bobs out of a carriage at the other end of the platform, head turning left and right as honey eyes search the crowd just as desperately as his do. It doesn’t take her long to spot him—he towers over everyone else in the station—and her smile washes over him, filling his lungs with air to push him towards her. He doesn’t run—it takes a surprising amount of restraint not to run—but he meets her halfway in just a few strides.</p><p>They stop in front of one another, hands twitching at their sides, unsure of what to do now that they’ve gotten to this point. A handshake seems too formal, a hug, too intimate. Yachi tightens her grip on her luggage and uses her free hand to tuck a stray strand of spun gold behind her ear as she smiles up at him. Kuroo forces himself to relax, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand as he flashes his smarmiest grin. “Hey, Yacchan.”</p><p>He loves the way her cheeks flush and her eyes crinkle as she giggles behind her hand. “Hi.” And just like that, the awkward air dissipates. He offers to take one of her bags and she lets him. They walk together away from the station, into the city, towards the past and the future.</p><p>They don’t rush into things this time. They decide to take their time and enjoy each other’s presence when their schedules allow it. Yachi hadn’t needed too much convincing to try again—their reunion at the station proved she had already decided she was still interested and willing—but Kuroo still tells her about his conversation with Akaashi from the week before.</p><p>“He really said that?” she asks around a mouthful of barbeque beef.</p><p>They are sitting on her couch watching a movie and eating takeout, after unpacking her things and getting her resettled back in her apartment. He nods. “I was surprised too,” he admits, “but knowing Bo, it probably shouldn’t be that shocking.” She hums a thoughtful agreement. “It’d still feel weird flaunting it in front of him though.”</p><p>“Do you guys cross paths often?”</p><p>“Not really,” he says, though it’s not uncommon for their teams to practice together once or twice a month or for players and coaches to come to their practices or games to scout. The Devils are a farm team for the Jackals, after all. Even Bokuto had come up through them. The handful of times he’s seen Bokuto in the last few months, they were always friendly with each other. Well, maybe “friendly” is a stretch. They’re professionals, after all. “I’d say we’re copacetic.”</p><p>Yachi gives him a skeptical side-eye. “If you say so,” she says.</p><p>In the end they agree to renew their relationship, actually date each other this time instead of the sneaking passion they’d indulged in during the spring, see if there is actually something deeper there and make sure they didn’t throw away their friends for nothing. They don’t go public with it, of course, it’s still too soon for that, but they do agree to tell people as it comes up. They can’t keep it from Kenma, and by some weird extension, that means Shouyo is aware of it already when Yachi reaches out to him. (Kuroo has words for Kenma about who he should confide in more.) He promises not to tell anyone before they’re ready, though he insists their friends will be happy for them.</p><p>Gradually, their lives return to normal. Yachi goes back to school and buries herself in her work. Kuroo has his career and graduate work to keep him busy. On nights when he doesn’t have practice or a charity event or class to attend, he finds himself in her apartment, textbooks spread across the coffee table while she hunches over her drafting desk, sketching out her latest project. When they don’t have work, or when they need a break, they rent movies and curl up on the couch. Sometimes they’ll go out to dinner in the suburbs, to quiet diners and mom and pop cafes, or they’ll catch a late movie at the cinema. They don’t share anything more than breathless kisses and he never stays the night. Sometimes they laugh about it, because they’re doing it all backwards, but at the end of the day their relationship is still a fledgling growing its wings before it can fly and it’s ok because they’re together.</p><p>As the days grow shorter and the nights grow colder, Kuroo thinks his life is only getting warmer and brighter. He still has coffee with Akaashi every other week; Akaashi is more disciplined about his coffee splurges than Kuroo. They don’t talk about Yachi except when Akaashi asks if Kuroo knows how she’s handling life back in the city. The former setter seems genuinely pleased that she’s settling back into her old life with few problems. He wishes her well. He never asks what their relationship is, though.</p><p>Bokuto is indignant when he discovers Kuroo and Akaashi have these biweekly coffee dates. They text every once in a while. It had started with team-related topics and occasional taunting before or after a joint practice, but as time went on, they started talking more casually, like they used to. He wasn’t mad that Kuroo and Akaashi got coffee together, he was upset that he wasn’t invited. Kuroo had been surprised that Akaashi never told him about their coffee dates, and the younger man had seemed apologetic when he brought the spiker to their following outing. Laughing and sharing jokes and stories amongst each other, it was like old times. He promised to try to bring Kenma next time, so that it would be exactly like old times, but he couldn’t promise anything.</p><p>Yachi is glad that they’re all getting along again. One of her deepest regrets was the thought that she had ruined his friendship with Bokuto forever. She insists even more now that they still can’t tell them just yet. Not when the wounds are so freshly being healed.</p><p>“But what about you?” he insists. “Aren’t you lonely?”</p><p>He expects her to deny it, but he isn’t prepared for her explanation. They’re sitting at her kitchen table sharing a home cooked meal that she had prepared special for his birthday. She reaches across the table and takes his hand, slipping her fingers neatly between his, like they were made to be there. “How can I be lonely when you’re here and you’re smiling and loving me after everything?” She smiles and the sun has never seemed so dim. “I’m too happy to be lonely anymore.”</p><p>He doesn’t go home that night.</p><p>*~*</p><p>
  <em> Friday May 7, 20XX </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Brokuto</b><br/>
<em> Hey bro, you free later? Got something important I wanna talk to you about. [13:11] </em>
</p><p>Kuroo blinks at the text on his screen. It’s been almost a year since the scandal went public, and while they’ve more or less come back to the friendly rivalry they had back in high school, he still hasn’t told him about Yachi. His mind flashes to panic as he wonders if Bokuto knows, if he’s pissed and reaching out to denounce him for betraying him again. Akaashi had said he’d be ok with it, but what if Akaashi was wrong?</p><p>He swallows his fear and rationalizes that it could be about anything before responding.</p><p><b>Kuroo</b> <em><br/>
</em> <em> [13:14] Sure thing bro. Just name a time and place. </em></p><p><b>Brokuto</b><br/>
<em> Yesss (((o(* </em> <em> ﾟ </em> <em> ▽ </em> <em> ﾟ </em> <em> *)o))) [13:14] </em></p><p>Kuroo’s eyebrows climb to his scalp. The address Bokuto sends is for a restaurant at the higher end of town.</p><p><b>Kuroo</b> <b><br/>
</b> <em> [13:16] You tryin to seduce me? </em></p><p><b>Brokuto</b> <b><br/>
</b> <em> Bitch I might be (͠ </em> <em> ≖ </em> <em> ͜ʖ͠ </em> <em> ≖ </em> <em> ) [13:17] </em></p><p>He’d had plans with Yachi, but this seems important. He texts her a screenshot of the convo and asks for a raincheck. Her reply is very enthusiastic, almost insistent. He’s not allowed to say no to Bokuto. Clearly she does not get the same sense of impending doom as he does.</p><p>He gets cleaned up and dresses in something appropriately fashionable. It’s not a black-tie joint, but his usual band tee and ripped jeans look would not be acceptable there. He plays it safe and chooses from his tailored slacks—his legs are really too long for anything less—and a ribbed Henley that Yachi had bought him for Christmas with a smirking claim about how it suited him well because it really showed off his arms. Who was he to question her style choices? She had the eye for design, after all.</p><p>The first thing he notices when he gets to the restaurant, is that Bokuto is not alone. He’s not sure why Akaashi’s presence sets alarm bells off in his head, but his theory about what this meeting is really about starts to gnaw at the back of his mind again. They’re going to eviscerate him. He still thinks he deserves it, though, so he presses on towards their table.</p><p>The second thing he notices is how closely together they’re sitting, and how their faces light up upon seeing him. Bokuto gets to his feet first and wraps Kuroo in a bear hug. “Bro, I’m so glad you’re here!”</p><p>He awkwardly pats Bokuto’s back, nodding polite greeting to Akaashi as the grey-haired man releases him. “You said it was important.”</p><p>“Yeah!” Bokuto beams as he returns to Akaashi’s side, grabbing his hand tightly and staring at him as if Akaashi is the only other person in the city.</p><p>This is when he notices the third thing. The glint of metal on the hand intertwined with Bokuto’s. The ring on Akaashi’s hand. A bubble bursts inside of Kuroo and he bounces on the balls of his feet while frantically flapping his hands. “Oh my god!” he cries. “Is that—?!”</p><p>“Yup!” Bokuto yells back. Akaashi’s cheeks turn scarlet.</p><p>“Bro!”</p><p>“I know, right!”</p><p>They’re embracing again and Kuroo is pretty sure they’re both crying. Akaashi is definitely holding back tears; he won’t cry in so public a setting. Kuroo wraps him up in a tight hug too, as soon as he disentangles himself from Bokuto. “I’m so happy for you guys!”</p><p>They settle down as waitstaff and the other patrons cast them disdainful glances, but Kuroo doesn’t care about appearances. His best friend found his life partner at his side after all this time. He’s too gleeful to contain himself. He orders a bottle of champagne against Bokuto’s protests that they were treating him. “Look, it’s not gonna be anything compared to this dinner tab, especially with how much you two eat, so you can at least let me buy the first bottle to celebrate.”</p><p>Bokuto tells him all about the proposal while Akaashi stares at his fiancé with the most tender expression Kuroo has ever seen on the former setter’s face. Of course, Bokuto had proposed twice. The first time was very Bokuto, impulsive and informal and he sort of skipped the confession part, though the proposal was a confession in its own right. The second time was just as Bokuto, romantic and sentimental, taking Akaashi on a nostalgia-fueled scavenger hunt throughout the city to all the places of their ”firsts,” starting with the first proposal at Akaashi’s apartment and ending at their high school gymnasium where they’d first fallen in love without knowing it. And even though it had only been a little more than a month since the first proposal, Akaashi had already made up his mind long ago, in that very gymnasium as a middle schooler watching a young ace fly through the air, so there was no point in putting it off any longer.</p><p>“Can’t believe it took you guys ten years to sort that out,” Kuroo laughs into his drink, rum now. </p><p>Bokuto gives him a sly grin. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”</p><p>The sudden burn in his throat isn’t solely from the alcohol. “Ouch.” He supposes he deserves that. “Not gonna live that one down, am I?”</p><p>Bokuto chuckles. Akaashi sighs and shakes his head. “Koutaro, don’t antagonize him. That’s not why we invited him out.”</p><p>Kuroo raises an eyebrow as he raises his glass to his lips again. “It wasn’t to inform me of your engagement?”</p><p>“Well, that part is important,” Bokuto says. “But only because it provides context for what we really want to ask you.”</p><p>Kuroo grins as Bokuto turns to Akaashi to make sure he used that phrase correctly. Some things would never change. But wait, they wanted to ask him something? “Ask me what?”</p><p>“To be my best man, of course!” Bokuto declares this as if they are still best friends and rivals from high school, as if there’s no checkered history between them, as if he genuinely still believes Kuroo Testurou deserves to be in his life, to stand at his side on his wedding day.</p><p>Kuroo’s brain short circuits. He gapes at Bokuto. He turns a questioning look to Akaashi, expecting to see the same disbelief on the other man’s face that he knows is plain on his. Akaashi’s smile is just as kind as Bokuto’s. He’s in agreement with this. “You’re serious?”</p><p>“Well duh,” Bokuto says, leaning back in his chair and throwing his arm over the back of Akaashi’s chair. “You’re my best friend, after Keiji. And he can’t exactly be my best man <em> and </em> my Best Man.” Kuroo isn’t sure how he does that, where he can hear the capital letters on the second instance of the phrase. Akaashi is rolling his eyes. “Kuroo, I’m being sincere, here. Regardless of how we got to here, you’re still my best friend, and it really would mean the world to me to have you at my side when I marry my <em> very </em> best friend.”</p><p>Kuroo blames the rum for the tears that fall at that admission. “Of course I’ll be there, idiot. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”</p><p>They manage to make it through the rest of dinner and dessert, only crying a couple more times. They even get a tear out of Akaashi by the end of the night, though he denies it was a tear at all. As they leave, Bokuto has one more request of him. “You’ll bring Yachi, won’t you?” Kuroo wonders how many more times his brain can short circuit before it ceases to restart. “I miss her. If you tell me you let her go after all that we’ve been through, I’m gonna be really sad.”</p><p>Kuroo looks to Akaashi for help, but the shorter man stares at him waiting for his response. He’s smart, he has to know. Kuroo sighs, thinking of how she’ll probably scold him later for telling them without her, but he also knows she’ll forgive him as soon as she learns why. He can feel that his smile is embarrassingly smitten, but after all this time, he knows it’s ok to show it. “Don’t be sad, bro. Of course I’ll bring her. She misses you, too.”</p><p>Their goodbyes are tearful—ok maybe they had indulged a <em> little </em> too much—and they make plans to get together to go over wedding plans. There are more tears when the couple come to visit Yachi and the four of them huddle around her kitchen table crying and laughing and talking late into the night as if no time has passed since the last time they were all together and happy like this. </p><p>Over the next couple months, the kitchen table starts to resemble a war strategy map, floral designs and cake plans and decoration options scattered across it as Yachi and Akaashi tackle the aesthetic side of the wedding planning. They won’t let Kuroo or Bokuto anywhere near their designs, leaving them to narrow down the guest list and venue choices. Before they know it, summer has peaked and August is just around the corner. Miraculously, they get everything together in time.</p><p>Kuroo’s heart swells with excitement and pride and joy as he stands at the make-shift alter next to Bokuto while the wild-haired spiker exchanges vows with the love of his life in a quiet park just up the road from where they first fell in love, surrounded by their family and friends and current and former teammates and rivals. As Washio announces them as husband and husband, Kuroo scans the crowd, grinning at all the smiling faces beaming back at the happy couple. His heart stutters as his eyes fall upon the brightest star in the audience, radiant in a pale, yellow dress that matches the golden waves pinned up to the side of her head and cascading over her bare shoulder. His mind flickers briefly to the small box tucked in his sock drawer at his apartment and he looks forward to the day he’ll get to experience this view from Bokuto and Akaashi’s point of view. For now, though, he celebrates the love between his friends. </p><p>They celebrate late into the night, the newlyweds insisting on sticking it out with the final guests who remained. When Konoha raises concerns about them missing out on their honeymoon, Akaashi assures him they’re not missing anything and they’ll have plenty of time to enjoy each other. They want to spend tonight with their loved ones. Bokuto tosses another log into the fire pit and glances across the fire to smile at Yachi curled against Kuroo’s side, eyes glassy as she watches the fire crackle from beneath his arm. Akaashi mirrors her and nods to Kuroo as Bokuto leans back on their shared loveseat. Kuroo understands the unspoken promise reiterated in the air between them. Everything was ok.</p><p>They would all be alright.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Whew! I don't know how this sequel ended up almost double the length of the first one, but apparently I can no longer be brief, ever, and here we are. How you feelin? Do you need a hug? I told you everything would be alright at the end!</p><p>I hope you enjoyed the conclusion to this BokuAka/KuroYachi tale of heartbreak and finding love in unconventional ways! Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please drop a kudos, a comment, or come talk to me on <a href="https://twitter.com/anininjaspaz">Twitter</a>! </p><p>And for more slowburn KuroYachi, check out Megan's beautiful multi-chap <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23713045">fic</a>, updated every other Tuesday!</p><p>Also, Yachi's outfit for BokuAka's wedding was 100% inspired by this <a href="https://twitter.com/moiemoii/status/1265677303461232641?s=20">fanart</a>. </p><p>Ok, that's all I have to say on this series now. I've got loads more content coming though, so be on the lookout for that! Stay safe out there! I love you all!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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